


Wanting

by grey853



Category: Queer as Folk (UK)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stuart Alan Jones & Vince Tyler friendship, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-17 11:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/grey853
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan suffers for his bad choice in bed partners.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanting

**Wanting**  
by Grey  
[Grey853@aol.com](mailto:Grey853@aol.com?subject=Wanting)

* * *

The bruises didn't hurt as much as the humiliation. Nathan rolled over on his side, careful to keep the groan to himself, trying hard not to cry out as the sharp pain in his ass caught him off guard. The cuffs holding his wrists clanked against the iron bedpost, the scraping noise an echo to his own frustration. He could die here and no one would know, no one would probably even look for him. God, what a twat. 

"A bit sore, eh?" 

"A little." His raspy voice matched his body, raw and unsettled. 

"Only a little? Got to fix that then." A rough hand smacked his bare bottom as a strong arm pulled him back towards the sweaty body still reeking of latex and semen. Teeth bit painfully into his shoulder while the man's husky voice scratched the eardrum. "Like me pretty boys right whipped by the time I'm finished." 

The throaty growl scared him as much as the snaking hand grabbing his balls and squeezing. "Jesus, Ronnie. It hurts." 

"S'posed to hurt, ain't it." The words came out chilling, a promise as he licked his neck and forced him on his back again, the leaking erection humping in closer. A callused hand stroked his cock, but not gently, jerking it harder with each try. "Didn't do it right if I don't leave ya a bit lame in the mornin'. Now, come on, open your legs for me." 

Swallowing hard, Nathan closed his eyes and tried to keep the tremor from his voice. "Please. I did what you wanted. Let me go." 

"Will when I'm finished. Now spread your legs or I'll spread'em for ya." A slap to the jaw got his attention. Dark eyes stared down into his, the threat clear, the flashing memory of fists and the sting of the paddle too real. "Don't play sweet virgin, sweetheart. We both know you're a slut, a right bitchy whore, so don't make me add anymore bruises to the merchandise. Might lower your value on the bloody market." A hand grabbed his chin and pinched viciously as he shook it. "Wouldn't want that now, would we, my precious?" 

His head spinning, Nathan pulled his knees up as Ronnie forced his legs apart, his lower back screaming in protest. A hasty finger pushed in, the fire up his belly searing his nerves. 

"Shit. You're bleeding all over. Shit." The mattress jostled as the man pulled away and jumped out of bed, grabbing a towel from the table. "Fuck. Why didn't you bloody say something?" 

"I said go slow." 

"I don't need this." He pushed the dirty cloth between his legs and snatched up the key. Unlocking the cuffs, his voice rushed out in a hoarse command. "Look, get up and get dressed. You can't stay here like that." 

"I need to make a phone call." 

"Not from here you don't. Forget you ever knew me." 

"What?" Light narrowed as he sat up, the deep muscle shudders making it hard to keep his balance on the side of the bed. 

"Just hurry up and get dressed. You'll be all right. Just go home and stay down a day or two. You'll be ready to fuck again in no time." He moved in closer, his hands to both sides of Nathan's face, the fingers pressing in until he looked up. "If anyone asks, you don't know me. If you tell anyone, well, I can make tearing your ass look like nothing. Got that, sweetheart?" 

"Yeah." And he did. He'd never tell, never admit to being so fucking stupid. 

Nathan swayed as he took the T-shirt and then stood up to pull on his jeans. He fell back down in a hurry, icy swirls floating all around him, his skin clammy. "My trainers?" 

"Right here." Busy hands helped with his shoes and then his jacket before lifting him to his feet. "Come on, sunshine. Let's get you out of here. Young bitch should know better than to show up with a tight ass anyway. Shit. Not my fault, is it." 

Outside, the morning air biting into his face, he leaned against the lamp post. A taxi pulled up and he crawled in, the last image of Ronnie one of good riddance. Bloody twat about killed him. 

He gave Stuart's credit number and then paused before giving Vince's address. He couldn't let Stuart know what happened, couldn't let him know that Ronnie looked like the man he wanted, but turned out to be nothing but another bloody horror show. 

* * *

Vince sorted through the pile of folders, the one he needed hiding. "Where the hell is it?" As he found the blue binder, the door bell rang. 

Checking his watch, wondering who it could be so early in the morning, he opened it. "Nathan?" 

"Hiya. I was just passin'." 

"Just passin'? At seven thirty in the bloody morning?" 

Anger transformed to worry as he studied the young man leaning against the doorway, his hands holding his jacket shut, his skin too pale. A confused face reflected the light and mixed it with the shadows, his hazel eyes cloudy and unfocused. 

"Don't want to be a bother, but could I come in? Just for a minute?" He slipped down as he finished talking, his head hanging and his body suddenly more slack. 

"Jesus, don't you dare pass out on me." He grabbed the sagging figure and helped him to the sofa. "What happened?" 

"Don't feel good." 

"You going to be sick?" 

"I don't think so." Instead he folded up and lay on his side shaking, his eyes squeezed shut. "Just cold." 

"Here's a blanket then." Draping the shoulders, he kneeled beside the young man and touched the cool forehead. "Tell me what happened." 

"I'm a twat." 

"No argument there." 

"I went home with the wrong fella." 

"Shit." Wetting his lips, Vince calmed his own panic, his hand still petting back the hair. "You hurt bad?" 

"I'm bleeding." 

"Jesus. We need to call a doctor." 

A large hand grabbed his wrist as Nathan stared at him, his eyes cloudy and sad. "No doctor. Just tell me what to do, and I can do it." 

"It's not like that. You need to be examined. You could be bleeding inside, get peritonitis. You need antibiotics." 

His voice small and pleading, Nathan begged, "Can't you call someone, someone who doesn't have to report it? If my mum finds out, that'll be the end of it. My da will kill me." 

After a few moments, Vince nodded, his face grim, his gut tight with worry. "Just hold on a bit, eh. I've got to make some phone calls." 

"Not Stuart." 

"I have to call Stuart. He's the one who knows the doctor." 

"God, I don't want him to know." 

"Just shut your face. I've got to call work, tell 'em I need a leave day, and then call Hazel. She probably thinks you've drowned in the bloody river." His voice softened before he continued. "Don't worry. I might know someone who can come." 

"You won't tell Stuart?" 

"We'll see." 

"He'd think I was a right twat if he knew." 

"You are a right twat. Now try to get some sleep while I find somebody. I don't know why I have to be the one always picking up the bloody pieces." 

"Thanks, Vince." 

"Don't thank me yet, chicken. I've still got to call my mother. You'll owe me." 

As he picked up the phone, he thought about all the times he ended up pissing in his own sink because of Stuart Alan Jones and added one more time to the long list. 

* * *

"He'll be all right then?" Vince wrapped his arms around his middle as he watched Nathan sleep and his friend Charlie pack up his bag. The young man stood taller than him and had the body of a good footballer instead of a doctor. 

"Should be. The tears aren't too deep. I've given him a shot that should keep him out a bit." He handed three packets of pills to Vince and motioned with his head. "You've been through this, too, so you know about using the stool softeners and antibiotics. I've left you some pain meds, as well. He's going to be uncomfortable for awhile. No more than one tablet every 8 hours though." 

"All right." 

"And, tell him about the bland diet with plenty of fluids and keep an eye on him for fever. If he starts getting bad, take him to hospital, no fucking about. Hear me, Vince." 

"I hear ya, Charlie." He met the blue eyes and smiled. "Thanks for coming. I know you and Stuart don't get on." 

"Fuck Stuart. Bet this is his mess, eh?" 

"He didn't do this, if that's what you're asking." 

"I know he didn't, not first hand anyway. I'm just saying he probably fucked the kid and then dropped him and left you to tend the pieces as the kid goes around screwing the world to make up for wanting that sorry bastard." 

"Yeah, well, it's not his fault the kid's obsessed." 

"Jesus, Vince, when are you going to wake up and stop letting this happen?" 

The words hurt, the barbs of truth snagging his skin. "I appreciate you coming over, Charlie, but Stuart's my friend." 

"Yeah? I never did get that." 

"You don't have to get it." 

"No, I don't, thank god." Frowning, he pushed his hair back and gave a quick glance at the sleeping young man on the couch. "Call me in a few days and let me know how he's doing." 

"I will. And thanks." 

"Sure." Charlie stopped a moment, his hand briefly reaching up to caress the younger man's face. "You're a good person, Vince. Stuart doesn't deserve you." The quick kiss burned his cheek and he stood speechless as Charlie picked up his bag and turned to leave. 

"What was that for?" 

"Just a free sample if you're ever interested. Later, Vince." 

"Sure." 

Vince locked the door behind him and then sat down at the table bewildered. He liked Charlie, but not like that, too damn serious was Charlie. 

Rubbing away the kiss, he turned to stare at his sleeping beauty. Bloody hell. The dark bruising around the chin and left cheek drew his eye. Why in the world would the kid go with such a nutter? The sudden shudder took him as he remembered a time when a fist battered his Stuart's face in, a time when instead of a good time, there'd been disaster. He'd fixed that mess, too, making sure Stuart's family never found out about the real cause of the beating. 

Shaking his head, he cursed. "Stupid bastard." It pissed him off that he could've been talking about Nathan, Stuart, or even himself. They were all right prats when it came to this whole fucking business of telling lies and loving the wrong person. 

* * *

Nathan's breath tangled with the groan as he rolled over, the spin in his head as much from the drugs as the injury. Raising a hand to his temple, he steadied himself, but didn't dare brave the light. Instead, he lay there quietly while his thoughts jumped around all wild and jittery. 

Wanting swallowed him up, twisting his gut into ribbons of hunger. His need to see him again held him in bondage, held him in a pattern of doing something stupid over and over. Stuart Alan Jones owned him and he didn't much care if he died before that ever changed much. He just wanted Stuart to love him, wanted that more than anything. No matter what anyone said, he believed it would happen. Yeah, one day. 

"You awake then?" 

Vince's voice startled him, but he tried to stay still. "Yeah." 

"Want some tea?" 

"Not really." 

"Charlie said you should drink plenty of liquids. I could make it light and sweet for ya. Get you on the mend straight away, that would." 

"No, thanks. Maybe later." He covered his eyes with his arm, his muscles complaining and full of spikes and spasms. "Hurts too much right now. Sorry." 

"I'm sure it does. Need anything else?" 

"No, thanks." He bit his lower lip before he whispered, his voice still a bit tremorous. "I feel like a right twat for letting this happen." 

"Shut your face, Nathan. You didn't ask to be beaten." 

"No, but I didn't stop it either." 

"What are you saying? Are you saying you could've stopped it?" 

"Maybe." 

"Bullocks. I saw the bruises on your wrists. Nothing you could do. Forget about it and learn a lesson. You've just got to be more careful." 

The sting hurt even behind squeezed lids, the tear hot against his cheek. "How?" 

"You're young. You'll learn or die trying." After a short pause, he asked, "Was it Ronnie Nevins?" 

Shocked, Nathan opened his eyes and rubbed them hard to focus on Vince sitting at the near by table. "How'd you know that?" 

"Made sense, didn't it? He's into beating the boys. And he looks like Stuart." 

"Fuck." A quick panic gripped him, the discovery like cold wind across his heart. "Don't tell Stuart." 

"Won't have to." 

"Eh?" 

"He'll take one look at you and know." Vince avoided his eyes and put his hands together while he spoke, his voice even, almost tender. "You're not the first who's tried it on with Ronnie because he looks like Stuart. But that's all it is, just looks." 

"I know that now. Why didn't you warn me?" 

"Coulda done, but didn't know he was out of prison. Got two years for the last bust up, didn't he." 

"But you could've said." 

"You never listen anyway, so what's the bloody point?" 

He swallowed back his anger and took a deep breath without answering. Easing himself up, he shrugged off Vince's helping hand as he sat on the edge of the couch. "I should be goin'." 

"And go where? You're in no shape to be traveling. Hazel knows you're here." 

"I don't know. Just somewhere." 

"Don't be a prat. Go to the loo if you have to and I'll get you something to eat." 

"I'm not hungry." 

"You need to eat something." 

"I'll have a biscuit or something then. Don't care." Surrendering, he let his weight rest on Vince's shoulder while he stood, the room too fuzzy. Using the wall to brace himself as he walked to the loo, he smiled to himself as Vince busied himself in the small kitchen. Vince would make a great mother some day, and it suited Nathan to let him practice. Having someone care enough to bother helped make it a little easier to look at himself in the mirror without cringing. No matter how good Vince was, he still wanted Stuart. 

* * *

Shaking his head, his patience tested, Stuart banged on the door again with his fist. "Let me in, Vince." 

"What are you doing here?" 

"Stop pissing about and open the fucking door. I know he's in there." 

"Jesus, give us a minute." 

He closed his eyes, his anger escalating until he finally saw his friend's worried face. "Vince, what the hell have you and the kid been up to?" 

"Nothing." 

Pushing past the blocking shoulder, he shoved his way in and only stopped as he spotted Nathan lying on Vince's bed. "Bloody hell." 

"Do us a favor and keep your voice down. He's in a bad way." 

He moved quickly to the edge of the bed and squatted, his hand brushing back the blond strands from the forehead before caressing the cheek. The stubble burned his hand in contrast to the cool sweat on the skin. "Drugged is he?" 

"To the gills." 

"Good." Standing up, he shrugged off his jacket and walked into the kitchen to grab a beer. "Now, talk, you sorry bastard, and tell me why you never bothered to call." 

Avoiding his eyes, Vince got his own beer and didn't answer the question. "How did you find out about it?" 

"How do you think? Your best bloke Charlie couldn't wait to have a go at me. Wanted to know what the fuck I planned to do, like it's my fault." 

"It is your fault." 

"How is it my fault?" 

"You never stop and clean up your own mess, that's what." Stepping in, he motioned in the direction of the sleeping young man. "He's got no idea how to take care of himself. He's just a boy for christsakes." 

Defensive, the truth twisted his gut as he watched Nathan's slow even breathing. Even battered, he made for a tempting picture. "Nobody does at his age. What's that got to do with me? It's not my fault he's hurt." 

Vince shrugged, but he met his eyes and kept his voice steady. "It is your fault, you sorry bastard, but it doesn't much matter now anyway. What are you going to do about it? What are you going to do to make sure it doesn't happen again?" 

"What do you want me to do, adopt him?" 

"Stop talking like a bloody twat and be serious." 

He took a deep breath and studied the concerned features. Vince rarely got angry, but when he did, he hated to see it. "Settle down then. What do you really want me to do?" 

"I don't know, do I? I just know I can't be worried he's going to be found in the bloody river. He's too damn pretty for his own good, but worse he's needy. Makes him an easy target, doesn't it?" 

"How's that my fault?" 

"He's not going to give up if you keep stringing him along." 

"I'm not." 

"You are. He keeps hanging about waiting for the next shag and in the meantime, he's taking up with the likes of Ronnie Nevins." 

"That bastard. He's supposed to be in prison." 

"Well, he's out, and our Nathan, poor sod, thinks he can get what he wants from your evil twin." 

"Fuck." 

"Exactly." 

Meeting his friend's eyes, he whispered, "You should've called me earlier. I would've been here." 

"I know. But he didn't want you to think he was a twat." 

"Too late for that." 

A hand rested on his shoulder as he spoke. "Just sitting here all day, I've been thinking back to Lassiter." 

A cold wash claimed him as he pulled away and leaned back on the counter, his arms crossed. "God, I hadn't thought of that for bloody ages." 

"Seeing Nathan today made me think about how lucky we are to get out alive sometimes." 

"Yeah." Staying still took a lot of energy, his mind flashing back to the pain and bruises of the attack, the ripping of both his body and his pride, his confidence shattered for months afterwards. 

Vince leaned into him, drew him closer as his voice broke into his thoughts. "You've been where he is, Stuart. Help him. Don't make him suffer like you did." 

Running his hands through the brown hair, Stuart drew Vince in and kissed his cheek and then his forehead. "Thanks." 

"You're welcome." 

He pulled back and fought off the terrible urge to grab his best friend again and drag him off to the couch for a long round of snogging. The need to hold someone, to shag until the ache left him rushed through, his thighs heavy and sweaty. Clearing his throat, he worked at distraction. "You been here all day playing nanny?" 

"Yeah. Took a leave day." 

"Yeah? Look, why don't you go out for a bit. I'll watch the kid until you get back." 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah." 

The sudden excitement rushed his words. "I need to run some errands and take some money over to Hazel. You sure you can handle it?" 

"What's to handle? He's asleep." 

Nodding, Vince got his jacket. "I shouldn't be gone more than a few hours. If he wakes up, try to get him to drink some tea and feed him something bland." 

"I know the routine, Vince." 

"Oh, right. I'm off then." He stopped for just a moment before he raised a warning finger. "And promise to leave him alone, Stuart. He's not up to shagging or anything else you might have in mind." 

Feigning hurt, he raised a hand to his heart as he frowned. "Jesus, what do you take me for?" 

"My best mate, the champion shagger of Manchester, that's what." With more force, Vince repeated, "Leave him alone." 

"Don't worry, Vince. Run your errands. I'll take care of our Nathan." 

"That's what I'm afraid of." 

* * *

The fine lines of the boy's body drew him, the prize just under the blanket. A gentle tug and he could claim it, stroke it, and suck it until he drank in his favorite flavor. 

Stuart stood up and paced, his mind racing. Vince would kill him if he did what he wanted, stripped the kid bare and licked every inch of that delicious flesh. Rubbing his face with both hands, he looked back only to find drug dazed eyes staring at him, the slight smile lifting the slack face into beauty despite the swollen bruises. 

Sitting down in the chair, Stuart leaned forward, his voice softer than usual. "You look a mess." 

"Sorry." 

"About what? Being a right prat for going with Nevins?" 

"Yeah." His eyes closed as he swallowed, his hands shaking as he raised them to cover his eyes. 

Reaching out, Stuart took his right hand and drew it to his lips, kissing first the palm and then the dark wounds along the inside of the wrist, his own eyes stinging. "You should file a report." 

"I can't." He shuddered, the tremble vibrating Stuart's lips as he licked the inside of his elbow, his mouth sucking the tender skin. 

"I know." Stuart used one hand to pet back the hair and then shifted to sit on the bed, his weight bouncing the mattress. "Show me where he hurt you." 

"What?" The surprise rounded the eyes, the face suddenly wary. 

Rolling up the shirt, the purpled marks mottled his chest and stomach. Gently he walked his fingers over the edges before lowering his head, his lips messengers of both his desire and his grief. Straightening up, he stood long enough to take off his own clothes before climbing on the bed to straddle the long body. Capturing the mouth, he relished the tremors, the hesitation as it changed quickly into returned passion. The tongue wrestling with his own increased its fervor to probe deeper. Under him Nathan arched up, his groans witness to recovery. 

Lifting himself, he stripped off the younger man's jeans, his eager erection already leaking and ready. Whimpers of pleasure matched the pumping up as he stroked the cock, rolled it with a steady rhythm. Quick spasms jerked through the body beneath him, Nathan yelling out before he could cover his mouth with his own. Shaking his head, he thrust harder, his own body's easy rocking practiced and easy. Lying across the torso, he suckled the neck, his beard scratching against raw skin. The soft moaning of his name over and over urged him on as the winding through his gut tightened, the crack of the coming electric, the pure break of pleasure up through his backbone. Spitting fire seared his veins, exploding his thoughts as he shook into bright flashes. 

Collapsing, breathing measured in pants held his voice captive. After a few minutes, he slid to the side, drew Nathan closer and whispered, "The hurt doesn't last." 

"I just wanted to be with you." 

"I know." 

He pulled the blanket over both their sweaty bodies as Nathan rested his head on his chest, his eyes squeezed shut, his body shaking as he held on even tighter. 

"Don't leave me. I love you." 

Combing the silky hair with his fingers, Stuart stared off, his voice a sad lilting music. "You'll get over it." 

Tears tickled his skin, the boy's fight to control them finally failing. "I won't. I love you." 

"I know. Now go to sleep." Snuggling in, his breaths clogged and wet, the younger man finally relaxed against him, the heated weight a comfort. 

After awhile sleep teased his own thinking, his worries drifting into a fuzzy state between awareness and dreams. Only the click of the lock alerted him to Vince's return and his friend standing quietly in the doorway just watching. Meeting those eyes, he expected anger, but found only painful acceptance. Vince knew him, knew all his ugly little secrets and still loved him. 

"Is he okay then?" 

"Yeah, I think so." 

"Good. I'm going back to Hazel's." 

"You don't have to." 

"Yeah. I do." 

The door locked behind him and in the quiet, Stuart hugged Nathan closer, knowing full well how much wanting and having were so very different, as different as holding the wrong lover and not having enough courage to change it. 

* * *

The End


End file.
